


Stick Up

by UnderTheFridge



Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: Alcohol, Androids, Gen, I mean artificial people, drunk Social Activist Hudson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheFridge/pseuds/UnderTheFridge
Summary: Prompt: 'So Bishop's just joined the squad and after their first mission together, they take him along on their next shore leave. A server/bartender says "oh, who's your new robot friend?" To which (drunk) Hudson replies "it's ARTIFICIAL PERSON, fuckwad"'





	1. Chapter 1

She is definitely flirting with him. Of course, cocktail waitresses are encouraged to be nice, to create a genial atmosphere and ensure tips - but she started this one, and he flirted back, and it’s been a while now and she hasn’t shut it down in any way and she keeps coming over. Also because he’s having more drinks.

Maybe the drinks are the thing making him think she’s interested. Or maybe that’s what’s making him more interesting.

She keeps talking to the synthetic as well. He’s polite, pleasant, but in no way giving any sign of being interested in her, even when her bust hovers over the table like two stars in a binary system, perhaps about to escape from the gravitational pull of the bra. Hudson has been informed that synthetics are supposed to be the worst at putting off potential partners… but he might as well be holding a puppy, for the attention they’ve gotten so far. He’s pleased that their new squad member has attached to him - even though the others might claim it’s because he’s so accident-prone. Prevention of harm and everything.

However, he has to be dismissed if Hudson is going to escape with the waitress. A difficult and delicate task, which Hudson eventually accomplishes with “Hey, ah, me and - um, this lady are going to… to somewhere. So, see ya?”

She giggles and leans against him as they walk back to her place. “I like your robot friend.”

“They prefer ‘artificial person’,” Hudson says, without malice.

“Ok,” she says, wide-eyed and most definitely hanging off his words as well as his arm. “That’s real interesting.”

There’s a line, he supposes, between ‘cockblocking’ and ‘best wingman ever’.


	2. Chapter 2

The teaspoon clatters to the table and everyone roars in approval. Spunkmeyer salutes, downs his drink, and follows the spoon as it teeters on the edge and slides to the floor. Someone slaps him on the back as he goes, which only hastens his descent.

“You cheated,” he accuses from his prone position, pointing a hand above the table’s surface in Drake’s rough direction. “You fucking well cheated.”

“Did not,” Drake retorts, with a grin that’s either triumph in honesty or getting away with murder.

“How do we know?” Frost says, an appeal on behalf of both of them. “How do we know? We need an independent adj- agd- adud- judge.”

“How about the robot?” Someone asks, and there’s a general looking-around. “Where’s the robot?”

A collective dawning happens - he isn’t here, despite being a shadow at their heels ever since they were introduced.

“Apone didn’t let him on shore leave,” Hicks says, realises it sounds a little uncharitable to the sergeant, and adjusts. “I mean, there wouldn’t be much point to him going. And we don’t want to lose him.”

They agree, and Hudson, through a fog of alcohol, wants to suggest that maybe if he joins them next time, they should stop calling him a robot.  



	3. Chapter 3

“You gonna take the robot with you?”

Hudson knows that the other unit now have a synthetic attached to them, and that that happened recently, but Sorrel is drunk and he’s drunk and he doesn’t have the sense (or maybe lack thereof) to let it go.

“Artificial person,” he says. “They call themselves artificial people,” and adds “you dumb fuck,” for good measure.

Sorrel stares at him with a mixture of inebriation and indignation. “Well maybe that’s what  _ they _ call -.” He starts.

“Yeah, and we should honour that,” Hudson finishes. “It’s, like, polite, don’t you think?”

“Do we care? It’s just a machine, not like -,” and Hudson’s hand on his collar, hauling him halfway across the table, stops him short.

“Listen, pal,” Hudson growls. “He’s part of the team and he’s not  _ it _ . Now man, I like you, and I don’t wanna beat your ass. I  _ like  _ you. But if I  _ ever _ hear you talk about the synthetic guys that way again….”

“Ok, ok,” Sorrel shrugs out of his grip. “Damn. I didn’t know you were so….”

Hudson relaxes a little, back into amiable drunkenness. “I know. But oftentimes they don’t stick up for themselves.”


End file.
